


Guilty Sadist

by Byutsuno



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Facials, M/M, Manhandling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Rough Sex, Slight Strength Kink, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byutsuno/pseuds/Byutsuno
Summary: "Are you asking me to hurt you?""I'm saying you could try."yaevinn/geralt porn with some feelings
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yaevinn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Guilty Sadist

**Author's Note:**

> i felt like the yaevinn/geralt community was in need of some porn! so here. porn. 
> 
> title is based off the song "song for a guilty sadist" by crywank.

Yaevinn and Geralt were laying side by side in their shared bed, Yaevinn languidly tracing the raised and discoloured designs of Geralt’s many, many scars with his thin fingers and deep eyes. Their limbs were entangled beneath the fabric sheets, Yaevinn pleasantly warm against Geralt’s cool body. A perfect contrast.   
Geralt had been in this position countless times before; with paid company and people he hardly knew, people he needed something from, whether that be information or just a quick orgasm. 

“What are you thinking about?” Yaevinn asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Not thinking.” Geralt replied. “Waiting.” 

Yaevinn glanced over at his lover the best he could without moving from his position. “For what, might I ask?” 

“For you to ask about my scars. They always ask.” 

“They?” Yaevinn paused for a moment and then he scoffed. “You’re thinking about the prostitutes you’ve slept with while I’m lying beside you?” 

Geralt remained quiet. Waiting. 

“I understand that at times I can appear to be a bit…” 

“Pompous?” Geralt supplied. 

“ _ Poetic. _ ” Yaevinn substituted. “But I was under the impression that my confession had gotten through to you. Was it perhaps too simple? Had I made a mistake when I uttered three words instead of three hundred? Should I reiterate?” 

Geralt continued to stare at the ceiling of their tent, expression cold and blank. 

Yaevinn cupped Geralt’s jaw with one hand and turned his head to look at him. “I love you, Geralt. Not for your efforts, nor for your looks, your history, or future, but for you in this present. I adore the being that you are. The mutant, the Witcher, the man I find myself between my sheets with every night and unconcerned of who will see, who will hear. I feel pride in calling myself yours and I hope you feel the same in calling yourself mine. I want you to see me for me, not for my status or my...pompous ways, but for what I truly am beneath the skin and within my bones. I am not here for anything but your love. Your trust. I don’t want to pry information out of you, I am content knowing whatever it is you tell me when you are ready to share.” 

Geralt felt something pull at his slowed heart. A twinge of something warm in a cavern of ice. 

“And…” Yaevinn continued. He climbed into Geralt’s lap, their thin blanket pooling at his hips. His skin was bare. They often slept in the nude. It was easier than scouring the floor for discarded clothing by candlelight while exhausted and sore. “I have my own scars.” He ran his hands from the nape of his neck down to his chest. As he had said, his skin was kissed with battle wounds. Some large and ugly, others thin and faded, old and forgotten. “Should I also be waiting for you to ask me where I got them?” 

Geralt’s eyes followed Yaevinn’s hands as they turned outwards, dragging along his abdomen before pulling back until he felt Yaevinn’s fingers brush against his thighs beneath their blanket. They locked eyes as Yaevinn’s hands returned to his front, dancing around his half hard cock before sliding up Geralt’s torso, fingers pushing into the flesh of his pectoral muscles. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Geralt asked. 

“Are you answering my question with a question?” Yaevinn shot back. 

Geralt pushed himself to sit up, finally embracing Yaevinn properly with both arms around his waist, chilled hands pushing into Yaevinn’s back until they were chest to chest. The elf shivered and sighed, feeling Geralt’s cock start to harden against his thigh. 

“Scars are scars. They don’t tell stories, they just carry memories. And you know I haven’t got the best memory.” Geralt kissed along Yaevinn’s throat as he spoke, letting his teeth drag along his jugular as the kisses became wetter, hungrier. 

Yaevinn smiled and ran his fingers through Geralt’s silver hair. “I expected an answer like tha--.” Yaevinn’s breath hitched as Geralt bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Alright, alright, conversation’s over. Kiss me, Wolf.” 

Geralt licked at the teeth marks he left as a silent apology before he carded his fingers through Yaevinn’s elegant, black hair and pulled him into a searing kiss. Geralt licked into Yaevinn’s mouth greedily. With his tongue, he caressed and tasted, rubbed and wet. Yaevinn shivered again, arching into Geralt’s body. When they broke apart for a quick gasp of air, Geralt danced his fingers along the ridges of Yaevinn’s spine before quickly slipping a finger inside of him. 

Yaevinn gasped as Geralt prodded at his prostate, locating it with practiced ease. “I’m fine. You don’t have to stretch me anymore, just put it in.” 

“Yaevinn--” 

“ _ Geralt _ . I’m sure I’m still...prepared from last night. I’ll let you know if I change my mind and want further preparation.” Yaevinn grabbed Geralt’s hard dick and pumped it a few times, slicking it up with all the precum that was drooling from the tip. 

Geralt grunted as Yaevinn guided the tip of his cock to his hole and sank down slowly. Yaevinn bit his lip and hissed at the burn and stretch. It wasn’t unbearably painful but maybe a few fingers beforehand would have taken the edge off. Not that he was going to admit that. 

Once he was properly sitting on Geralt’s dick, he rolled his hips and shuddered. Geralt filled him so nicely, hit all the right places before he even moved. Geralt’s hands came to rest on his hips, gripping him firmly yet without demanding a thing. Simply...waiting. 

Yaevinn grit his teeth. Okay. He was officially pissed off. 

He gyrated his hips once, twice, and on the third round, Geralt’s nails dug into his hips with a warning, but he did nothing more, simply huffed beneath the pressure of Yaevinn’s weight. Yaevinn huffed too, finally lifting his hips and beginning to bounce in Geralt’s lap. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked between pants. 

“Of what?” Geralt grunted. “You?” 

“Of showing me...” Yaevinn ground his hips down again and gave a barely audible moan. “...That you care for me. Maybe you’re afraid of losing me? I promise you, Geralt, I have no plans of going anywhere.”

“I thought this conversation was over.” 

“Are you afraid of hurting me?” 

Geralt bit his tongue. 

Yaevinn slowed his hips to a stop. 

“Geralt.” Yaevinn sighed.

“Yaevinn.” Geralt replied. 

“Geralt-- Geralt. You won’t  _ hurt  _ me. I-I’m not… I’m not a damsel. I understand your work and lifestyle better than any prostitute you’ve ever been with.” He spat the word ‘prostitute’ with a venom. “If how things are now end up not working out for whatever reason, of course I will be disappointed but I know you would choose to end things out of love and respect for me, not to hurt me. I trust you not to hurt me. I know you will not hurt me.” 

Geralt’s piercing gold eyes locked onto Yaevinn’s deep brown ones. They sat in silence for what felt like eternity before Geralt cracked a knowing smile and licked his lips. “Oh. I know what this is  _ really _ about.” 

“...What?” Yaevinn raised a thin eyebrow in confusion. 

Geralt ran his rough hands along Yaevinn’s hips soothingly, patrionisingly. “You’re still upset about the prostitute thing.”

Yaevinn gawked. “What? No, I… I am not… Are you implying that I am, perhaps,  _ jealous _ ?” 

Geralt smirked and shrugged. 

Oh, Yaevinn hated him. He loved him but he hated him. 

“Geralt. I am not jealous of the humans you have slept with in the past.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“And why is that?” 

Yaevinn was taken back by the question. “You want to know why that is?”

Geralt nodded. 

“Well, because I know you can’t hurt me. Not the way you could hurt a human.” 

Geralt smiled, a toothy grin. “Do you mean that emotionally or…” He gave Yaevinn’s ass a firm squeeze. 

Yaevinn smirked. “Want to find out?” 

Geralt flipped them over easily. “Are you asking me to hurt you?” He was hovering over Yaevinn’s sprawled out form with his hands planted firmly on either side of his head. 

Yaevinn wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear. “I’m saying you could try.” 

Geralt pushed forward, grinding his own cock into Yaevinn. The elf bit his lip, a sparkle in his eyes at the wave of pleasure that washed over him. 

Geralt wasn’t a rough lover most of the time, out of caution, really, there was nothing sexy about killing your partner because you couldn't hold back your strength. But with Yaevinn, Geralt knew he could get away with being a bit more on the harsh side (in moderation, of course ). He would sneak in nips and apply a bit of pressure with his dull fingernails. Sometimes Yaevinn could ask him to go a little harder, fuck him a bit stronger, manhandle him a bit more. Geralt would always oblige but nothing would hurt. Now he was being asked to purposely be rough. He was being asked to  _ try _ to hurt him. It was a bit unexpected. Overwhelming. Exciting? 

“You think you can handle it?” Geralt whispered, asking for permission. 

“Make me handle it.” 

Geralt pistoned his hips forwards, setting a brutal pace as he pounded into Yaevinn. The elf, known to be rather quiet during sex, whimpered and brought a hand up to cover his mouth and muffle any more escaping noises. Geralt immediately grabbed Yaevinn's wrists and pulled them back down, pinning them to the creaking bed as he ravished him. Wave after wave of pleasure rushed through Yaevinn’s body. His stomach tightened around the heat already beginning to pool at the base of his abdomen and he tightened around Geralt’s length, dragging him in further with every snap of his hips.   
Geralt growled at that, leaned down, and bit into Yaevinn’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. The added pressure and friction of Geralt’s toned stomach pressed against his leaking cock pushed him over the edge and Yaevinn saw sparks of white as he came. He gasped and arched his back off the bed. Before he had time to even process what was happening, Geralt had flipped him onto his stomach, pulled his hips upwards, and pushed back into him with an animalistic grunt. The tip of his cock brushed against Yaevinn’s prostate with each thrust and the added pleasure to his hypersensitive body had the elf shaking, quivering, grasping at the sheets as he lost his thoughts, body succumbing to raw pleasure for a second time much too quickly. He came again, completely untouched, harder than the first time, and his chest burned with the loud, long moan he let slip out of his slacked jaw. 

Geralt pulled out completely on one thrust and Yaevinn shuddered hard as his hole squeezed and gripped around nothing. He felt raw and open. He kind of loved it. 

Yaevinn winced as a fistful of his long hair was grabbed and he was guided by the pain on his scalp to a kneeling position on the bed. 

“Yaevinn.” Geralt’s voice was worn, rough and slightly laboured. Yaevinn whimpered at the sound alone before he processed that the sound was his name and he needed to reply. 

“Mmyea?” Yaevinn blinked his eyes open. He had drooled when his face was pushed into the sheets but couldn't find the strength or will to wipe it from his chin. He felt completely spent. Totally satisfied. He figured he looked the part as well. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Yaevinn let his tongue loll out of his mouth submissively. He watched with sated eyes as Geralt began fucking into his fist quickly, rolling his thumb over the head and twisting his wrist with each pull until… 

Yaevinn shut his eyes just as Geralt came onto his face and onto his tongue. He tasted terribly bitter. Yaevinn swallowed. 

The elf continued to kneel on the bed, exhaustion starting to settle into his bones as he felt Geralt leave briefly before returning to his side with a damp cloth to wipe away the mess he made of his face and the two loads the elf emptied onto his own stomach. When he felt the semen get wiped out of his eyes, he opened them again, as best as he could. They were heavy even with the lack of cum weighing them down. 

Geralt scooped Yaevinn into his arms and pulled them both under the covers. He cuddled the elf into his broad chest and breathed in his scent with a deep sigh. “Sorry.” 

Yaevinn rolled his eyes. “Geralt, you should know that I enjoyed that.” 

“Not about the sex. I never apologize for sex.” Geralt chuckled. “I meant the stuff before the sex.” 

They sat in silence for a moment. Yaevinn’s head rising and falling with Geralt’s chest. 

“...Go on.” Yaevinn prompted. 

“I don’t see our relationship as that of a worker and a customer and I’m sorry if I made you feel that I did. It should be obvious, but: I view you as more than just sex or information or anything trivial like that.” Geralt took a deep breath, as if he wasn’t used to speaking for such a long time. A perfect contrast to Yaevinn. “I know you love me. And I love you too. It’s not that I want to hurt you or think I will, I just fear I will one day without meaning to. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, though. Fear means there’s something to lose, right? I’ve never been this afraid of losing anything before though. Anyone--" Geralt heard a sniffle. "Are you crying?” Geralt asked in disbelief. 

Yaevinn quickly wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “N-No, you just missed some of the sperm you shot at my face.” 

Geralt smiled and tilted Yaevinn’s chin up gently to plant a loving kiss on his lips. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ruined a romantic moment.” 

Yaevinn laughed and chased after Geralt’s lips for another kiss. “Just following in your footsteps.”

The two snuggled into each other’s bodies further, Geralt looking for warmth, Yaevinn for a chill against his own heated body. Yaevinn felt his eyelids grow heavy again as he listened to the comfortingly slow beat of Geralt’s heart echoing in his chest. It was slowed and physically, it was probably cold, but Yaevinn knew Geralt himself wasn't coldhearted. He wasn't as big and bad as humans saw him to be, expected him to be, told him to be. He _did_ have emotions. He _could_ fall in love. He was in love. And Yaevinn knew that better than anyone else. 

**Author's Note:**

> i dont actually know if witchers are cold, i dont think they are honestly, but i like the saying "people with cold hands have warm hearts" and i felt it would fit if i made elves a little warmer then the average human. opposites attract yknow?


End file.
